


Scared of Lonely

by Dontknowmyname



Series: Bad Things Happen Bingo [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bad Things Happen Bingo, Big Brother Dean, Gen, Hurt Sam Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, SPN season 14
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-25
Updated: 2020-02-25
Packaged: 2021-02-28 07:15:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22889830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dontknowmyname/pseuds/Dontknowmyname
Summary: Sam wakes feeling as though he’s finally gotten a win, but it doesn’t take much to rip that feeling away and push him right over the edge he’s barely been holding onto for so long.
Series: Bad Things Happen Bingo [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1645345
Comments: 5
Kudos: 53





	Scared of Lonely

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sammy_whammy_whumperflies](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sammy_whammy_whumperflies/gifts).



> Thank you aihoshiduo for sending me such a great prompt that finally got my creative juices flowing! You’re the greatest!
> 
> Original Prompt: "I don't think there's enough out there taking advantage of how BATSHIT CRAZY SAM GOES WITHOUT DEAN. I see these bullshit people griping "Dean loves Sam more than Sam loves Dean duhurr" and it's like BIIITCH! Sam fucking had a dude SELL HIS SOUL TO A DEMON so that SAM COULD TORTURE HER. "WHERE'S MY BROTHER?!" 😐 *cough* anyway...I like the idea of Sam being so sleep deprived and starved and anxious and busy helping the new hunters in early S14 that he just SNAPS one day.
> 
> BTH Bingo Square Filled: Anger Born of Worry

For the first time in months, Sam woke up without the heavy weight that had settled on his chest. He got a solid 2 and half hours of sleep, which was five times the amount he’s had since rescuing Mom, Jack and thirty some other hunters.

He cracked a slight smile as he brushed his hands through his disheveled hair and over his beard, remembering Dean’s dislike for his newly grown facial hair. It probably won’t last long, but he certainly didn’t want Dean to think his opinion is the reason behind the decision to shave so he’d give it a few days.

The bunker was already alive with commotion as hunters searched over scattered research and mapped out the shortest route to their next hunt. He greeted them with a wave and a smile, one that may have actually reached his eyes this time, but said nothing as he made his way to Dean’s room.

Sam knocked on the door and waited for his brother to respond, but after ten seconds of complete silence, Sam’s heart was practically beating out of his chest and he couldn’t wait any longer. He pushed the door open and darted inside, eyes manically searching the room but finding no sign of Dean.

“Dean?” His voice cracked and his his chest tightened. What if it had all been a dream? He finally managed to close his eyes for longer than thirty minutes at a time and his mind had played some terribly cruel trick on him. Sounds about par for his life.

Dean’s boots are still sitting beside his bed, a few shirts hanging on the hook by the door and empty beer bottles still scattered atop the dresser. Everything is exactly the way Dean left it. The way it has been for months.

He took a few deep breaths and ran a shaky hand through his hair. It had all felt so real. Sam remembered driving back to the bunker, Dean holding the steering so tight that his knuckles had turned white. He had just stared at Dean the whole time, unable to take his eyes off for fear of losing his brother again.

With one last look around the room and still no sign of his brother, Sam felt the small tether he had to sanity snap. The heat rose from his toes, making his cheeks red and his eyes water.

All rational thought escaped and suddenly the only thing Sam had was rage. Nothing was safe. His fists clenched at his side and he let out a terrifying growl as he kicked the door so hard that it bounced right back. The room felt as if it were closing in on him and he had no way of escaping.

Everything on the dresser crashed to the ground, drawers were pulled out and thrown across the room until the dresser was empty and easily flipped. He kicked the lamp and it smashed on contact with the wall. The mirror above the sink was shattered, pieces of glass flying everywhere. Sam’s blood spilled into the sink and left a trail through the destruction. Anything that could be broken or thrown fell victim to Sam’s wrath.

He was completely unaware of the voices screaming his name from down the hall or the echoing footsteps running toward him. Nothing was able to break through the dark fog he was living in at the moment. Except the one thing he couldn’t find.

“Sammy,” His head snapped toward the door so fast that his neck cracked in the suddenly quiet space. “What the hell, man?”

Sam refused to believe his eyes, refused to allow his brain to continue playing it’s cruel games. Instead, Sam picked up one of the larger shards of broken glass and held it out like a knife. This was it. This was how it was going to end after all the fighting and sacrifices.

“Whoa now,” Careful feet stepped forward and Sam took an unsteady step backward. “Put it down, Sam.”

“No!” He didn’t see the ten plus people staring at him, his eyes only focused on the extremely life like hallucination before him. “Stay away from me. You’re not real!”

Unable to remain standing any longer, Sam crumbled to the ground among the clothing and debris thrown around the room. The glass in his hand fell with a clatter and almost instantly, he felt someone kneel beside him as he drew his knees in and began rocking back and forth.

“I thought you were real,” He confessed, “I thought I got you back.”

“You did, Sammy.” A warm, gentle hand squeezed his shoulder and Sam slowly lifted his head. “I’m here. I’m back now.”

“But you weren’t here, you weren’t in your room.” If he had been more stable, he would have laughed at himself for sounding so pathetic.

“I was taking care of Baby,” Dean’s hand moved from Sam’s shoulder to his face, gently patting Sam’s cheek before swiping unruly hair out of the younger man’s face. “You clearly were a bit preoccupied to stay up with proper maintaince.”

The fog in Sam’s brain started to disipate and the weight of Dean’s statement actually began to make sense. He wasn’t speaking soley of the car’s maintance. 

His body still refused to cooperate and all Sam was able to do was sit there and watch as one of the other hunters brought Dean a first aid kit. Dean accepted it without every taking his eyes off Sam and carefully cleaned the cuts Sam had inflicted upon himself during his fit of rage.

A bandage was wrapped around his hand and Dean carefully helped Sam up off the floor. Dean escorted Sam out of the room and this time he was able to hear the feet quickly retreating away from the door, away from the show he was putting on for everyone.

They made their way down the hall and Sam shuffled along, following Dean’s lead like he has his entire life. As they enter the kitchen, Sam was suddenly aware of the eyes staring at him.

“You okay, Chief?” He can hear the fear in the question and feels his own guilt surfacing. Sam was supposed to help and protect these people, not frighten them with his psychotic break.

“He’s fine,” Dean fielded the question for him as he shooed everyone out of the room. “Just give him some space.”

Everyone left without another word and Sam found himself seated at the table with a bag of frozen carrots resting across his throbbing knuckles.

“I thought it had all been a dream,” Sam whispered. “I’m sorry about your room.”

“It wasn’t a dream,” Dean confirmed and even though Sam’s rational brain knew it was true, hearing it aloud was what Sam really needed. His shoulders relaxed and he closed his eyes tight as Dean continued. “I’ m here, all the people YOU saved are here.”

Sam was about to thank Dean for coming back and once again saving him, but Dean cuts him off with a few more words of his own.

“Now that I’m back, you’re going to start sleeping more, eating regularly and you most certainly will shave that ugly ass thing growing on your face.” Dean suddenly went into full blown big brother mode, using that voice Sam had heard thousands of times before.

He ruffled Sam’s hair as he stood from the table and slapped Sam’s back before heading toward the stove. Within minutes, a steaming bowl of soup was placed in front of Sam and a spoon was shoved in his face.

Sam took a deep breath and finally allowed himself to relax with a small smile curling his lips. This was real. Dean was home.

**Author's Note:**

> I am accepting requests for hurt!sam or hurt!jared fics to fill my Bad Things Happen Bingo board. You can find my board [HERE](https://dontknowmyname215.tumblr.com/post/185779816251/thank-you-badthingshappenbingo-im-so-excited-to). My tumblr account is @dontknowmyname215.


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